


Mainstream

by RubyIntyale



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyIntyale/pseuds/RubyIntyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could be called a 'missing scene' for the series 3 episode where they all go to the Hooded Crow. Kent gets goth-y, Riley gets snarky, and Joe has a mini midlife crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First published on my Livejournal on 06/06/2012.

Emerson Kent smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror. He scrubbed up rather nicely, he thought, re-arranging his hair for the umpteenth time that evening. Tight black jeans, dark t shirt, Converse All Stars that had been banished from the office since Joe took over. His eyes flicked to the man standing next to him.

“Bloody stupid thing,” Chandler muttered, tucking the uncooperative bit of white shirt collar inside his dark blue jumper. He turned his head to meet Kent's eyes. The bit of shirt collar popped out again. Chandler raised his eyes to the ceiling in despair. Kent laughed.

“How do I look?” Chandler asked, rather flustered.

“Oh, great Joe, yeah. You'll blend right in,” Kent smirked at his boyfriend from under lowered lashes.

“What? Riley said we needed to dress up. I'm dressed up,” Chandler indicated his ensemble with open palms, “see?”

“I think she meant to dress a bit more...casual,” Kent looked back at his reflection. Should he add a bit of eyeliner? Was eyeliner too much? He was essentially out with the guys from work, after all.

“This is casual,” Chandler protested, looking rather put out.

“Yes. Yes it is. For you, at any rate.”

Chandler frowned. “Having high standards is no bad thing.”

“Looking the way you do in a well tailored suit is no bad thing either.”

They smiled at each other in the mirror. Chandler blushed slightly.

“Maybe I should just put my work clothes back on,” he sighed.

“No, no, honestly. You look great, it's just...”

“What?”

“Well, this Hooded Crow place we're going to. It's, well, it's an alternative kind of place and you look a bit, sort of, mainstream,” Kent averted his eyes and fiddled with the leather cuff wrapped around his wrist.

“Mainstream?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Chandler turned away from the mirror and walked across the room. He groaned as he sat heavily on the edge of the bath. “God I'm old.”

“What? No! No you're not. I didn't mean it like that,” Kent turned his back on the mirror and stared at Chandler. “I was being a dick. I'm sorry.”

Chandler shrugged and looked at the floor, “You're right though, I am mainstream,” he smiled weakly, “and uptight. Christ, what the Hell do you see in me?”

Kent crouched in front of his boss, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Everything,” he said quietly, “I see everything.”

Chandler lifted his head. The eye contact lasted until Kent leant forward and kissed him on the mouth. Slow, gentle, heartfelt. He smiled before pulling away.

Kent stood up. “Come on, we'd better make a move or the other's will be waiting for us.”

“Yes, let's get it over with,” Chandler sighed as he stood up.

Kent stoked his arm. “Are you OK?” His eyes were wide, unsure. Chandler was staring at him with a weird expression on his face.

Chandler smiled sadly, “Yes. Yes, Em. I'm alright. We should go.”

Kent's brow creased with worry, but he kept quiet.

 

They drove to the club in Chandler's car. Kent messed with his leather cuff absent mindedly as he stared out of the window.

Chandler glanced over at him. “Colour of Bone?” He asked, reading Kent's t shirt, “Should I have heard of them?”

Kent laughed. “No. No, they're just a local band. My mate's the lead singer. I told him where I was going tonight and he asked me to do a bit of free promotion. He's got an afro,” Kent grinned, “you'd like him.”

Chandler widened his eyes slightly, highly doubting that that was true.

Kent just shook his head and chuckled to himself.

They were quiet for a few moments, before Chandler spoke again, almost to himself. “I've never met any of your friends.”

“We've not been together that long,” Kent shrugged, “anyway, you've met my flatmates. They're my friends.”

“Yes, and they think this whole situation is creepy and 'messed up.'”

The words sounded wrong in Joe's pristine RP accent. Kent shuffled in his seat so that he could face him properly. “OK. What's wrong.”

“Nothing, Emerson. Nothing is wrong. I'm just not looking forward to a night in a nasty, greasy nightclub where everything's sticky and unwashed and everyone's” he took a deep breath to calm himself, “I'm just not looking forward to it.”

Kent reached out and stroked Joe's thigh, not knowing what to say.

 

As predicted, Mansell and Riley were already queueing up outside the grubby looking brick building by the time they arrived. Chandler had insisted on parking the car a few streets away, to stop any 'unsavoury patrons' of The Hooded Crow doing anything to it. He'd even turned back and looked at it nervously every few paces until it was out of sight. Kent was fighting the urge to hug him, or hold his hand, or...anything that involved physical contact really. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and slumped his shoulders slightly.

“Wow, look at you,” Riley wolf whistled as he approached.

Kent blushed and lowered his head.

“And you too, Sir. You look...snug.”

Chandler grimaced slightly. “Thankyou,” his gaze flicked between the wall, the rest of the queue and the damp concrete underfoot.

Kent gave Riley a one armed hug and looked her up and down, “You went all out,” he grinned, “nice.”

Riley twirled on the spot, “Thanks. My youngest picked the dress, on account of it being black and lace-y, apparently.”

“She's got good taste.”

“Hmmm,” Riley smiled at him.

“Christ, do I 'ave to listen to this for much longer?” Mansell rested his head against the wall.

Kent noticed Chandler flinch slightly as Mansell's head made contact with the grimy bricks.

Mina chose that moment to turn up fully decked out in her best 'bad girl' attire, complete with long black wig and heavy makeup. She made a beeline for Joe, who now looked even more uncomfortable and awkward than he had done thirty seconds ago. Kent scowled. He heard Mina mention something to Joe about 'working vice' and 'snapping a man's wrist.'

“Well, she's certainly made an effort,” Riley whispered.

“She can't actually think getting all tarted up is gonna make him notice her,” Kent sulked. He kicked at the wall with the toe of his shoe.

“Yeah, getting all dressed up just to get the attention of some bloke,” Riley looked Kent up and down and raised an eyebrow, “how pathetic.”

Kent held her gaze and scowled some more. “I don't know what you're talking about.”  
“Really? Strange that.”

“Shall we go in now?” Kent asked, slightly louder, and with forced enthusiasm. He could feel Riley's smirk on the back of his neck.

 

The club was a complete dive. Kent wasn't stuck up. He'd been to some dodgy places in his time, but this was just, worse, somehow. The music was far too loud and the sound system was fucked, so he couldn't make out lyrics or even the changes between songs properly. The thing with Joe was still gnawing at the back of his mind and he didn't know what to do about it. The drinks were cheap and tasted cheap; chemically and thick. He forced himself to swallow the last of the vodka and coke he'd been nursing for the past half hour, leaned back against the bar, and scanned the room.

Mansell joined him a few minutes later, shouting his drink order to the bartender. “It's alright, this,” he shouted over the din.

“Hmmm,” Kent wasn't really listening. His eyes were fixed on Joe and the two young women he was talking to.

“He looks a right knob,” Mansell laughed, seeing where Kent was looking. “Sticks out like a sore thumb, that one.”

Kent ignored him. The two girls had walked away from Chandler while he was mid sentence, rolling their eyes and laughing.

Chandler sighed heavily and walked towards the bar, sliding in between Kent and a large man in a leather jacket. “Ignorant,” he shouted in Kent's ear, “so ignorant. Is there any need, really?”

Kent shook his head and shrugged.

“I need a drink,” Chandler announced, “my mouth tastes like the air in this place.” It took him ten minutes to get the bartender's attention, and then he got scoffed at for ordering orange juice. In an act of sheer desperation, he asked for a double shot of vodka as well.

“That's more like it, mate!” The bartender shouted at him, slamming the drink down on the already sticky wood and splashing Kent slightly.

Chandler winced as he took a sip. “Dear God, that's ghastly,” he put it back on the bar. “Is this meant to be entertainment? This?” He indicated the mass of leather and PVC, “I fail to see the appeal.”

“It is kinda shitty,” Kent agreed, “but we're here to work. This was your idea, after all.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Chandler frowned. “I come up with some seriously stupid ideas. Stop me, next time,”

“Yes, Sir.”

The smiled warmly at each other. Kent got that happy, floating feeling inside, and everything felt alright again for a bit.

Mansell coughed. “I'm gonna go and try to talk to people,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey, wait! You didn't finish your drink,” Kent called after him.

“You 'ave it!” Mansell shouted back, already away from the bar and walking quickly in the opposite direction.

Kent turned to Chandler and giggled. “I think we made him uncomfortable.”

Chandler looked confused. “Why?”

“Because we were openly flirting with each other in front of him,” Kent shouted.

The man in the leather jacket turned around slowly, looked them both up and down, smiled, and turned back again.

Chandler didn't notice. “Were we?”

“We kinda were.”

“Oh.”

Kent scanned the crowded room again. He could feel Chandler's eyes on him. He looked at his boss in confusion, his head cocked to one side. He shook his head a little, mouthed “What?”

Chandler didn't react, just carried on looking at him, a look Kent had never seen away from the safety and privacy of their own homes. Kent swallowed, feeling himself start to warm up despite the cold, stale air in the club. He felt Joe's hand close around his wrist, squeeze once, and pull away. “Follow me,” was murmured hotly in his ear. Kent was powerless.

As he followed Joe's retreating form towards the back of the club, Kent wondered vaguely whether the bartender had put more than vodka in Joe's orange juice. He also wondered whether the other members of the team had seen them disappear together, and what the repercussions were going to be if they had.

Chandler eventually stopped underneath a set of black metal stairs. It was significantly quieter back here than it was near the bar. Nobody seemed to be using the stairs or standing anywhere near them.

Kent found himself pressed up against the wall with a very aroused and insistent Chandler all over him. The kisses they shared were rough, their teeth knocking together several times. Chandler bit Kent's lip and the younger man moaned into his mouth. Chandler pulled off, trailing kisses towards Kent's neck, scraping his tongue against the flushed, pale skin.

“Joe?” Kent panted, “Joe, what's going on?”

“Is this 'alternative' enough for you?” Chandler growled against his neck.

“Wh..what?”

Chandler bit his neck and sucked slightly in reply.

Kent gasped as the DI squeezed him through his jeans.

“Is this what you like, hmm?” Joe squeezed him harder, biting him just below his ear, “Is this what you're used to?”

“No! What? Joe, no. No. I...” Kent was fighting a losing battle with his arousal. His head knocked against the wall and he moaned.

Chandler unbuttoned Kent's jeans and dragged the zip down harshly, pushing his hand inside the tight denim so that he could rub and squeeze Kent through his underwear.

Kent was so close he was practically sobbing.

“I'm not so 'mainstream' now, am I?” Chandler whispered.

Kent cried out and came, soaking his underwear. Joe pulled his hand away before Kent was completely done and wiped it roughly on his own trousers.

Kent pulled his trousers up and fastened them again, feeling uncomfortable and sticky and confused. Chandler was breathing heavily and refusing to look at him.

“What was that for?” Kent asked in a small voice. He could feel an odd stinging sensation in his eyes and his throat ached. The floaty feeling had well and truly fucked off.

Chandler looked thoroughly miserable. “I'm, I'm sorry, Emerson. It's this place. I just.”

“No. No, it's about what I said before, isn't it?” Kent blinked rapidly, swallowed thickly. “Do you actually, seriously think that you're too old for me? That you've got something to prove?”

Chandler looked at him, but didn't speak.

There was an almighty crash and the sound of raised voices.

Chandler sprinted back towards the bar, leaving Kent against the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

They found Mina in the pervert's house, drugged to the eyeballs and barely conscious. Chandler stayed by her side until the paramedics arrived. Kent seethed.

He continued to seethe as Chandler drove them both back to his flat. Neither of them spoke or even glanced in each other's general direction. Chandler parked the car, sighed without taking his hands off the steering wheel. Kent got out of the car quickly and slammed the door, making Chandler wince. He stomped up the steps to Chandler's flat and let himself in with his key, closing the door behind him without waiting for the DI.

Chandler let himself in a few minutes later. Kent was looking out of the kitchen window with his back turned.

“I had to go after her,” Chandler said quietly, “I didn't have a choice.”

“Mmm,” Kent didn't bother turning round.

“What happened in the club...It shouldn't have happened.”

“Yep.”

“I'm sorry, Em. I'm sorry for this whole thing. If I hadn't got carried away, I would've been there to stop Mansell getting into that fight, and then Mina wouldn't have been abducted and”

“Abducted? She wasn't fucking abducted! She went off with that blond bloke of her own accord.”

“She was drugged, Emerson,” Chandler snapped.

Kent turned around to face him.

“Oh yeah. Of course. She's completely blameless, isn't she? How stupid of me to suggest otherwise.”

“What the Hell is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing, Sir,” Kent sneered, “I'm totally fine with my boss molesting me in a public place and all that. Happy to help him prove he's not past it,” Kent felt hot with rage. He stared at Chandler.

Chandler stared back, confused at the sudden change of topic. “You didn't seem to mind at the time.”

“I never mind you touching me,” Kent averted his eyes.

“I know.”

Kent's eyes felt gritty, and they had started to sting badly. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Arrogant prick.”

Chandler laughed without humour, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

They looked at each other again.

Kent felt his shoulders slump in defeat. “You shouldn't have done what you did,” he said quietly, “Christ, if anyone saw us”

“They didn't,” Chandler interrupted, “and I'm sorry for suggesting that you did things like that often. I don't know why I said it. I just got so...Angry.”

“Why?” Kent's eyes were definitely damp now. “Why did I make you angry?”

“You didn't,” Chandler crossed the kitchen to him slowly.

Kent blinked a few times before wrapping his arms around Chandler and hugging him tightly. “I hate her,” he sobbed into the older man's neck, “I can't stand the way she looks at you.”

Chandler stroked his back. “She can look at me however she likes. It doesn't matter, and it doesn't change anything. I love you.”

Kent froze. Chandler had never said those words to him. Ever. Kent had thought them in relation to the DI many, many times, but he'd never said them out loud. He wanted to say them now, but they were trapped inside him, weighing him down heavily. He swallowed, but they stayed put. He hugged Chandler tighter.

“Sshhh, it's alright,” Chandler soothed.

Kent felt something break inside himself, and then he was crying into Chandler's navy jumper, tears soaking the cashmere.

“I can't fucking stand it,” he choked between sobs, “I can't take anyone being around you. I know they all want you and you're mine. You're mine. I hate it,” he snuffled back into the jumper, shoulders heaving.

Chandler had no idea what to say. It seemed like Kent's issue wasn't with their public act of indecency, but that instead it went far, far deeper. He had never had Kent pegged as the jealous type. Bloody Hell. They had to be the most damaged couple in the greater London area.

Chandler kissed Kent on the top of his head. “You don't have to worry about them,” he mumbled into his curls, “I'm not going anywhere.”

Kent looked up at him, blinking rapidly. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Kent smiled a small smile, “And do you promise to stop thinking you're old and boring and that I don't want you? Because honestly, it breaks my heart when you say stuff like that.”

Chandler sighed, “I can't help feeling like that, sometimes.”

 

Kent frowned.

“You're so young,” Chandler stroked Kent's cheek with the pad of his thumb, “I have problems. You know that. I'll try my hardest to believe you, but you give me so many compliments and I don't deserve any of them.”

Kent frowned again, “You're an idiot.”

“I know.”

They both laughed slightly, a release of built up tension more than anything else.

Chandler ran a hand over his face, “God, I'm exhausted.”

“Same,” Kent started to walk towards their bedroom, “let's put this day out of it's misery.”

 

Their bedroom was dark and cool. Kent walked into the en suite bathroom and started to strip off. He had been walking around in come stained jeans for the best part of three hours and the mess had started to dry. He wrinkled his nose and threw both his jeans and underwear into the laundry hamper. He walked back to the bedroom after a quick wash in the sink. Chandler was already naked and under the covers. He hadn't bothered turning any lights on.

Kent got into bed and turned to face him. Chandler pulled him in close and kissed him deeply. After awhile, Kent felt his boyfriend's erection prodding him gently in the stomach. He leaned back a little and looked at it down the covers.

“What's brought that on?”

Chandler smiled, “Watching you strip.”

“Ha! Yeah, OK.”

“It's true,” Chandler pulled him back into the kiss.

Kent snuggled in closer. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

Chandler made a pleased sort of noise and closed his eyes.

“Turn around.”

Chandler did. Kent wrapped himself around his back, stroking his tummy before reaching lower. Chandler gasped at the first contact.

Kent started slowly; pulling the skin up and over the head a few times before smoothing it back down. Chandler sighed happily. The first drizzle of fluid was all the encouragement Kent needed. He held his lover firmly and kept his rhythm, until Chandler was moaning softly and rocking his hips. Kent kissed him on the back of the neck.

“Em,” Chandler whimpered several minutes later, “so close.”

“I know,” Kent mouthed at his shoulder, “what do you need?”

Chandler gasped and writhed on the bed. “Talk...Talk to me.”

Kent's grin was a little evil, but Chandler couldn't see it. “I can feel how close you are,” he said quietly, his hand leaving Chandler's cock briefly to fondle him lower, “you're so full, aren't you? So ready.”

Chandler nodded.

Kent gripped him tighter. “Tomorrow I'm gonna wake you up with a blowjob, I'm gonna suck your cock until it's wet and thick and hard for me, and then I'm gonna climb on top of you and ride you, nice and slowly. Would you like that?”

Chandler whimpered loudly.

“I'm gonna fuck myself on you until you can't stand it any more. You're gonna grab my hips and fuck me until I come all over your chest, and then you're gonna come so deep inside me you'll make me see stars.”

Chandler groaned and came. Kent carried on squeezing him gently until he was completely spent. Chandler rolled over a few minutes later, smiling as they kissed.

“Move up a bit.”

“Why?”

“I'm not sleeping in the wet spot.”

Kent laughed and hugged him close.

Several minutes later, he was pretty sure that Chandler had nodded off, until he heard the DI mumble, “Looking forward to tomorrow.”

Kent grinned and wriggled under the covers. So was he.


End file.
